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KAIA

T he air tastes like static and blood.

I stand at the edge of the ruins, where the old world meets the battleground we’re about to tear wide open.

Smoke curls from torches jammed into the cracked earth.

Shifters and witches and Fae warriors ready themselves in tight clusters, armor catching the light like a thousand tiny promises: fight, bleed, survive.

Elias moves beside me, a solid wall of fury and purpose. His long hair tied back. He doesn’t touch me, but gods, I feel him—like gravity. Like breathing.

We’re here. It’s today. It’s war.

I tighten the dagger strap across my thigh, the crystal pendant Sonya gave me tucked against my chest like a second heartbeat. The Veil Heart. The key to everything.

I need it to save the Veil. To save all of us. Because even if we destroy The Purifier, destroy The Order, someone will always try to rip the tears in the Veil bigger. And if I don’t get it... if I fail...

No. I won’t fail.

I can’t.

Elias leans in, voice low enough that only I hear.

"You sure you’re ready for this?"

I meet his eyes, so blue they’re almost silver in the storm-light. And maybe I’m shaking, maybe I'm scared out of my goddamn mind, but my voice comes out steady.

"I was born for this."

A grim smile cuts across his mouth. "Yeah. You were."

The signal flare explodes over the field, green and jagged and go.

We move.

The first wave crashes into the Order’s outer defenses like a tidal surge, witches throwing up barriers, shifters breaking lines apart with brutal, beautiful violence. I duck and weave through the chaos, sticking to the shadowed paths mapped out in my mind a thousand times over.

Elias breaks left, drawing half the guards with him like a bloody storm. He glances once over his shoulder— You got this, Kaia —before disappearing into the smoke.

Alone now.

It’s better this way. No distractions. No hesitation.

The Order’s citadel looms ahead, a spire of blackened stone wrapped in layers of magic so thick it feels like trying to wade through tar. My hands tingle, raw energy prickling just under my skin.

Focus.

I slip through a breach in the outer wall, heart hammering against my ribs. No turning back. I’m inside.

The halls are the same. And not.

Familiar routes twist wrong under the influence of the breaking Veil. Rooms bleed into each other, memories, nightmares, shadows that shouldn’t exist.

The Order built this place to be timeless, invincible.

Now it's dying.

Just like them.

I sprint down the east corridor, footsteps echoing too loud, too fast. They’ll know I’m here soon. I need to find it—the Sanctum. Where they hid the Veil Heart, protected it from the monsters they created.

Monsters like me.

A ripple shudders through the stone and suddenly, I’m not alone.

The walls blur. Shift.

The hallway melts into a memory.

My boots scuff the polished marble of the Order's training hall. I’m twelve. Bloody knuckles. Splitting lip. Standing over a boy twice my size, breathing hard, feeling... proud.

Jareth's voice echoes around me.

"Good. Never apologize for winning, Kaia. Mercy is weakness."

I choke on it.

On the love I once had for him. On the betrayal that still burns like acid under my ribs.

"No," I growl. "Not today."

I shove through the illusion, magic crackling off me like sparks. The hallway snaps back into focus, broken and crumbling.

My head throbs, but I run harder.

The Sanctum doors loom ahead, golden runes crawling across their surface like living vines. They shudder and spit magic like they recognize me. Like they’re afraid.

Good.

I slam my palms against the seals and force the magic open with everything I have left.

The doors shriek in protest but give way—and there, in the center of the room, floating above a pedestal carved with ancient sigils, is the Veil Heart.

It’s... beautiful.

And terrible.

A shard of pure crystal, pulsing with slow, deep waves of energy that hurt just to look at.

The minute I step inside, the Veil fractures again.

Hard.

The air rips apart with a deafening boom. Screams echo—not real, but memories peeling loose. I stumble, hands clutching my head as the ground splits into a hundred different versions of my past.

Me, kneeling at the Academy altar, swearing loyalty to the Order.

Me, crying into my mother’s arms after my first mission.

Me, bleeding in a cell after they thought I failed them.

"You're nothing without us," Jareth's voice sneers from the smoke.

"You're strong because we made you that way."

"You owe us your life."

"No!" I scream, the sound ripping straight from my chest.

I owe them nothing.

I owe me everything.

The pendant at my throat hums hotter, brighter, until it feels like it might burn through my skin. I wrench it free and hold it toward the crystal.

It flares, recognition, acceptance—and drops into my hand like a heartbeat falling into mine.

I snatch it close to my chest, tears streaming down my face, vision burning.

I feel the Veil respond, through the cracks, through the bleeding sky.

It’s waiting.

For me.

For Elias.

For us.

The room shakes violently as another explosion rocks the citadel. The battle’s close now. I can hear the roar of shifters, the clash of steel, the pulse of spells.

I need to get the fuck out.

I sprint back the way I came, clutching the Veil Heart like it's the only thing keeping me upright.

More illusions claw at me, more memories trying to drag me down, but I barrel through them. Gritting my teeth, snarling curses under my breath.

I’m Kaia fucking Draven.

I am not theirs anymore.

I will never be theirs again.

When I burst through the breach in the wall, the first thing I see is Elias.

Blood streaked, hair wild, eyes burning molten gold instead of the normal blue.

He sees me and relief slams through his features so hard it makes my knees buckle.

I stumble into his arms without thinking, without hesitation.

He catches me, crushing me to him like he’ll never let go.

"You got it?" he rasps against my temple.

I nod, too wrecked to speak, just clutching the crystal between us, letting its light seep into my broken pieces.

He leans back enough to look into my face, his own battered and beautiful.

"Then let’s end this," he says, voice rough with emotion.